Night of the Living Politicians
by Dirk Bolero
Summary: What if Caesar wasn't really dead after the blades had plunged into him?


The Tragedy of Julius Caesar:  
Night of the Living Politicians  
  
As darkness continued it's guard's march over Rome, the lightless streets were kept company by a lone man. Had the streets been able to speak they would speak to each other of this man's intentions and of his past, and unto Caesar his blade had stuck. This may seem morbid to those of current day, but this was Rome. People lived, people died, and many a time had they had a hand in both life and death. The amount of blood that had been spilled on the earth for the sake of their entertainment was enough to make an ocean. Then, at the hands of Brutus and his comrades, Caesar's life was plucked from him the very moment that one of the many knives withdrew from it's human sheathe. Quickly and silently Brutus hurried through the underside of a sleepy Rome with his pulse jumping at any light coming out though the windows. He was one of the most hated men in Rome amongst her commoners.  
  
Taking the road less traveled is all fine and good, but it is a long and tiresome journey, especially when an angry mob had run you out of town not but a few hours time ago. He was sure to meet his appointment at Marc Antony's abode even if he was late and being gnawed on by rabid dogs (whether those dogs were to be real or of fear). Brutus entered the house silently and without trouble. There was no lock to tend with, so he went quickly to the company room, lit by a small fireplace casting it's orange glow onto the carpet and the two giant cushioned chairs in the room. "It is in this dark night that I have received a letter, although to risk entering my Rome after such a brutal exile by the people it houses for the sake of a meeting with Cassius is beyond my reasoning." Brutus had just seen the chairs ahead of him. "Ah, Cassius, for I know the master of this estate is afar." The person sitting in the chair did not turn around, but spoke. "Hail, Brutus. You are correct that the master is away, but my dear Antony left only to dispose of what is left of Casca." Brutus knew this voice, and spoke his mind in reply. "What cripples my ears as to doth bind them with the voice of one such as Caesar?" The man in the chair stood and turned towards him, showing his face to him in good light, once he was in the light cast by the doorway. "Only the truth, and such a truth is hard to believe when Brutus himself had opened these wounds." The man before Brutus was Caesar himself, wearing fresh clothing. The wounds on his body were obstructed by his clothing, but other than that the one's visible were not bandaged. Brutus, however, kept his cool. "I see those gaping holes within your flesh. As your friend I am worried that you are hurt, but as the one who made them I cannot help but question how; If graves turning out their dead were a sign that the great Caesar should be killed, then why do the gods cause the earth to yield Caesar?" Caesar also stood calmly. "Here I stand before you, dead but not dead, and truly as constant as the Northern Star." A pause of silence was soon ended.  
"You survived the sharp blades of the senate, which makes sense when  
you have fought off their sharper tongues. If you'd be so generous as  
to forgive me for this moment's time, and hear my story, then I will  
gladly drink the poisons you offer me."  
"Then speak, for Caesar listens."  
"It is true to say that you, Caesar, are a man as constant as the  
Northern Star, as it were these words that you had graced us with not  
but a few moments' time before my treachery. You were constant; an  
unshaken rock upon which our trusts were built. Alas, our trusts were  
shaken when it was an empire that nearly took the place of that rock.  
That crown became like a Northern Star to you, and it is easy to  
believe that you would have steered your ship by it until the world's  
bitter end."  
  
At this Caesar was caught off guard. "Was this the thoughts of the others?" Brutus hesitated. "Some, if not most. Some of the senators were just worried that you were taking power away from them. Although they were wrong, I was worse, for I was your friend and cast aside both honor and friendship for the fears that Cassius and the others polluted me with."  
"And yet Brutus listened to them as such fears worked their way into  
his mind. How could you let them do so?"  
"I was at first all for you. then facts came to me that I had not  
noticed about Caesar. How I let myself be pulled in by such things is  
troubling, but now I seem to be getting my just deserts. As Antony  
must have told you, the people mourn your death by trying to kill all  
conspirators. They even killed a poet because his name was Casca, the  
same as one of your many killers." "Maybe Antony had done too well of a job in arousing the loyal Romans."  
Caesar turned towards the fire again after saying this, wondering what was to become of Rome, the city that he was once the uncrowned king of. Brutus interrupted his thought. "The Romans were easy to arouse. When I first spoke to them they were all ready to think of you as a tyrant. If it wasn't for Antony's love they would have stayed as such." The fire crackled in their silence. Caesar sighed. "You have lost your rank as a Roman, as a noble, and as an honorable man. All that leaves you with is being a killer."  
"How can I be a killer if the person I killed is still alive?" Caesar slowly turned and smiled. "A good question, but legally Caesar is to be mourned and his will followed." Brutus, in turn, returned a smile. "So legally I'm responsible for the death of Caesar. Besides, how did he survive?" Caesar frowned a mock frown. "It cost me quite a bit of money. Every blade was built to go back into the hilt as soon as it hit my flesh. Obviously they left some marks, so as to make you think you had succeeded." Brutus mimicked the mock frown. "Every one of them took quite a bit of blood from you, though. I am surprised you can even stand." Both smiled, knowing that it was like old times, only they were afraid of something. "Calpurnia was right. I did bleed like a fountain with a hundred spouts." Another mock frown felled both faces as Brutus asked a question that nagged him from the beginning. "Who had told you of us?" Caesar looked surprised at this, although not at the same time. Almost like flattery insulting you; you seek to compliment the person in return, but you know not what to say. "A servant of Cassius did so while his master slumbered, as well as every conspirator's servants, in turn." Both paused uncomfortably. "Conspiracy without secrets. So what have you planned for me?" It wasn't a true question, but more as a way to reassure what facts he knew. "I planned to have you stabbed the same number as was I. I plan for you to experience a real death; not the drama which I played out on the senate floor. That whole day was but an act in a dangerous play." The air seemed thick with wait of something that only one of them knew. Brutus cleared his throat. "Does your wife know of this?"  
"It would be wicked of me not to let her know that I live." "Indeed it would be. Just as I made sure to tell Portia I lived." "How does she fare on this night?"  
"Not well, for her worries of me consume her. Had I known of my  
servant's treachery I would have punished him while I was there."  
"Treachery spoken of by the treacherous. How does it feel?" All had seemed well on the outside as each man seemed to forgive, but once again the mood had turned. "I had felt as though you were the one who betrayed me, hence why I killed you." Brutus's answer seemed forced out of his mouth. Surprised as Caesar was, he began to speak. "I would never do such a thing as to." A sound from the door cut their talking short. "I hear a sound from the door." Caesar was as puzzled as Brutus. "Hold, as it cannot be Antony so soon." The door to the room they were in slowly opened. The Soothsayer entered slowly. "Beware the Ides of March. beware." The Soothsayer exited the room, and as he did so they heard the front door shut; the silence of the house returned with his absence. Caesar was as puzzled as Brutus, but Brutus was the first to say something. "Odd." Both men stood tongue tied as they thought their own thoughts. "Odd as that was, he was correct when he first warned me, although now that the Ides of March are nearly over I cannot see why he would choose to come before Caesar once again, let alone see how he knew I live." Brutus quickly rose to action. "Forgive me, but I must seize this chance."  
Brutus pulled out the sword from the senate house, preparing to kill  
Caesar once again. "Do not even try with that blade, for it recedes  
into it's hilt like a tortoise to it's greater."  
"The reason you had lived. but when could you get so many trick blades  
at once?"  
"I had known of Cassius for some time, although I had switched yours  
only to appease Antony."  
"But I am sure this blade will still cut when swung."  
"If that is the case. then we must end this with violence."  
"Two friends, their eyes turning bloody red with the clash of steel." Caesar drew his blade and fight truly begun. Caesar would have won hands down in a normal fight, but this was against Brutus. Not only that, but the blood he had lost had taken it's toll on him. "I will always think of Brutus as a friend, but always, I will think of Brutus the Traitor as an enemy." Both men continued to fight handicapped. Brutus could not thrust, and Caesar was weak and weary with undressed wounds to spare. Brutus kicked Caesar's chest, hitting the many sore spots riddling his flesh. "Why must we fight so, as though we were born of fire and water? No one but those you love and care about, know you live. Why can we not be reasonable?" Brutus spoke now as if he had not started the duel, but Caesar knew otherwise. "Because," he thrust his sword into Brutus's thigh, "Is it not reasonable to destroy that which tried to destroy me? Is it not reasonable to wish to see that in the palm of your hand, waiting to be crushed?" Brutus was holding his wound standing near the fire, it's light showing the dark look on his face. "Then so be it." He reached his bare hand into the flames, pulling a handful of hot ash with it. Casting it into the eyes of Caesar, he fled. Caesar's eyes burned, of both the ash and of rage. He knew Brutus had now fled. "A lack of blood. and a broken heart. has felled the mighty Caesar!" He collapsed upon the ground, dead. 


End file.
